Pops sits on his chair about 24 inches
from a TV screen lost in that most popular drug of all -
Audio-video-narcotic called Television. A host of Wild Banshee could
give court and insofar as she did not block his direct gaze into the
Television itself, Pops stays unawares of the “outside world”.
Becky had resisted for literally years but the drug is stronger
finally than her will, than all her love, so she admits defeat but
stands firm on having him at the table for three meals a day with no
TV running. She felt grateful at least that his political leanings
didn't draw him to FOX NEWS but just recently, she had even
progressed to requiring him to wear headphones for her own sanity
since he had to keep the volume up so loud. She knew that would drive
him further into the TV's spell. She got that. She got most things.
Becky is the girl who gets things, after all, she smiles. But Becky
had discovered that she could not stand to hear one more word from Chris
Matthews or Rachel Maddow for it had bore down finally upon her very
last nerve – no upon her very last fiber of being. It was a defeat
of sorts but what is life but a series of defeats? So few win even
most of the time. None live without suffering defeat of some kind.
Pops had seen a world of defeat in his eighty seven years and Becky
always felt a little guilty pulling him away from his news feed after
all it was what he loved, for better or worse.
Are you ready for lunch, Pops? she asks, although technically it is not really a question. As she says it, waving the open palm of her hand between his face and the Television to break his trance and it is a trance, no other word for it. It is always a rude interruption for Pops. Lunch? Pops. Lunch?
He jumps – huh, what, Yeah, yeah, he says. Lunch. Sure. Good. But his eyes do not leave the Television screen until Becky hits the power button with that now practiced sense of relief and guilt,
Ma died four long years ago and Becky moved in so Pa could stay in their home where he had lived now for fifty years. He had sobbed when Ma died then again when he had begged Becky to move in and not put him in a Home to let him die here in his own house that was his only wish. The only other time she had ever known him to cry was when her Grandma had died. Becky's older sister and her brother both in another state encouraged her to find a “place for him” but in the end, Becky just couldn't do it. Ma had made Becky promise when Ma was on her death bed that she would take care of her father until he died. That had been Ma's life taking care of him and even into death she continued to do that through Becky's promise. Since then Becky had looked at that promise from every conceivable angle and any which way she looked at it, it came out the same. Sure Pops had been a grade A asshole all his life. No doubt why few if any relatives ever even inquired about the old man any more. Still, Becky could have made no other choice. He wasn't really an asshole any longer. He was just a very frail, very old man. In a real way it was as if the father she had known all her life was already dead and this was some other old man who she didn't really know.
The unmarried one. All that crap that she had heard for her whole life long. She who had ended up being nursemaid to half the family at large at one point or another. Aunt Becky. She had been a nurse. Still was a nurse. Still had her license, anyway.
She helps Pops to the table by holding his arm. A fall perhaps the biggest fear at this point. He would not accept how weak and frail he was and kept trying to walk around when she was asleep without his walker. She had no help for at least a couple years now and had to go shopping at 3AM in the morning when she was sure he was asleep and would not hurt himself. It was anxious for Becky leaving the house even then but she had learned to love that early time of the morning often in Florida the best time of the day in many ways that smell in the air and the stillness, the quiet. Peace and Freedom. In some ways strolling down the empty aisles of the grocery store at 3AM was the best part of her life even if the thought of that made her laugh self deprecatingly. O well, it is what it is.
Today she had cut up some fresh strawberries for desert and had a half a tuna sandwich with a side of couple slices of cheese, carrots and celery.
She always ate with him at the table like this today. What did you learn on the talk news on the Television this morning, Pops? She asks him. Sort of a standard question.
Bah! he scoffs, waving a bony arm dismissively. Bunch of nonsense! My God Girl what the fuck is wrong with this country! Kind of a standard answer.
She tries to engage him some so Pops will not fall forever into the Television itself like some weird Alice-In-Wonderland adventure. But less and less does he even have much to say until Becky wonders what Pops does see and hear when he gets lost in that TV? Maybe he doesn't really even hear Chris Matthews at all, maybe his own mind protects him from that insult and removes him to some other place – but maybe she is just projecting? How's that sandwich, Pops? she asks. Have some strawberries with cream for desert for ya.
Then she notices in the chair Ma used to sit in there is … a shape … a vague whitish form roughly human shaped sans limbs? Somehow, she knows without a doubt that it is her mother. Her fork drops into her salad as she jumps back in the chair almost knocking it over. WTF? She looks at Pops but he obviously does not notice?
The sandwich is good, says Pops as if her question just then registered.
Ma?
She hears this whitish form say clearly, in her mother's voice, You're doing fine, Hon. Tell Pa that I'm always with him now. Tell him not to worry about the other side. I'll be there waiting there to help him. No worries.
She can hardly breath and again looks at Pops who still registers nothing. No worries that was what Ma always was saying. No worries. My God - am going completely insane? – I KNEW it! She thinks wildly. Ma? Is that you? She asks out loud.
The shape somehow turns toward her and says reassuringly, It's just me, Hon. Mom. You must tell him that I said so - he's very concerned about it. It's important now, Becky. You hear?
She finds herself saying, again out loud, I don't think so, Mom, Pops never talks about any of that kind of stuff -
The form cuts her off – You tell him. He's concerned, take my word. It's important now, Becky. I wouldn't be here if it weren't. It won't be long now you can think about what it is you want to do for yourself now, Hon.
Finally Becky manages to say, Okay, I will, Mom. I'll talk to him about it best I can. If I am loosing it, Becky thinks seriously, than I am really loosing it this is SO REAL?
Grandma's here for you, Hon, her Mom continues matter of fact. You got a long while yet. But Grandma's always with you, just know that. She wants you to do for yourself, Becky. We both do, Hon. It's about time for that and Grandma, you know, she loves you very much.
Are you ready for lunch, Pops? she asks, although technically it is not really a question. As she says it, waving the open palm of her hand between his face and the Television to break his trance and it is a trance, no other word for it. It is always a rude interruption for Pops. Lunch? Pops. Lunch?
He jumps – huh, what, Yeah, yeah, he says. Lunch. Sure. Good. But his eyes do not leave the Television screen until Becky hits the power button with that now practiced sense of relief and guilt,
Ma died four long years ago and Becky moved in so Pa could stay in their home where he had lived now for fifty years. He had sobbed when Ma died then again when he had begged Becky to move in and not put him in a Home to let him die here in his own house that was his only wish. The only other time she had ever known him to cry was when her Grandma had died. Becky's older sister and her brother both in another state encouraged her to find a “place for him” but in the end, Becky just couldn't do it. Ma had made Becky promise when Ma was on her death bed that she would take care of her father until he died. That had been Ma's life taking care of him and even into death she continued to do that through Becky's promise. Since then Becky had looked at that promise from every conceivable angle and any which way she looked at it, it came out the same. Sure Pops had been a grade A asshole all his life. No doubt why few if any relatives ever even inquired about the old man any more. Still, Becky could have made no other choice. He wasn't really an asshole any longer. He was just a very frail, very old man. In a real way it was as if the father she had known all her life was already dead and this was some other old man who she didn't really know.
The unmarried one. All that crap that she had heard for her whole life long. She who had ended up being nursemaid to half the family at large at one point or another. Aunt Becky. She had been a nurse. Still was a nurse. Still had her license, anyway.
She helps Pops to the table by holding his arm. A fall perhaps the biggest fear at this point. He would not accept how weak and frail he was and kept trying to walk around when she was asleep without his walker. She had no help for at least a couple years now and had to go shopping at 3AM in the morning when she was sure he was asleep and would not hurt himself. It was anxious for Becky leaving the house even then but she had learned to love that early time of the morning often in Florida the best time of the day in many ways that smell in the air and the stillness, the quiet. Peace and Freedom. In some ways strolling down the empty aisles of the grocery store at 3AM was the best part of her life even if the thought of that made her laugh self deprecatingly. O well, it is what it is.
Today she had cut up some fresh strawberries for desert and had a half a tuna sandwich with a side of couple slices of cheese, carrots and celery.
She always ate with him at the table like this today. What did you learn on the talk news on the Television this morning, Pops? She asks him. Sort of a standard question.
Bah! he scoffs, waving a bony arm dismissively. Bunch of nonsense! My God Girl what the fuck is wrong with this country! Kind of a standard answer.
She tries to engage him some so Pops will not fall forever into the Television itself like some weird Alice-In-Wonderland adventure. But less and less does he even have much to say until Becky wonders what Pops does see and hear when he gets lost in that TV? Maybe he doesn't really even hear Chris Matthews at all, maybe his own mind protects him from that insult and removes him to some other place – but maybe she is just projecting? How's that sandwich, Pops? she asks. Have some strawberries with cream for desert for ya.
Then she notices in the chair Ma used to sit in there is … a shape … a vague whitish form roughly human shaped sans limbs? Somehow, she knows without a doubt that it is her mother. Her fork drops into her salad as she jumps back in the chair almost knocking it over. WTF? She looks at Pops but he obviously does not notice?
The sandwich is good, says Pops as if her question just then registered.
Ma?
She hears this whitish form say clearly, in her mother's voice, You're doing fine, Hon. Tell Pa that I'm always with him now. Tell him not to worry about the other side. I'll be there waiting there to help him. No worries.
She can hardly breath and again looks at Pops who still registers nothing. No worries that was what Ma always was saying. No worries. My God - am going completely insane? – I KNEW it! She thinks wildly. Ma? Is that you? She asks out loud.
The shape somehow turns toward her and says reassuringly, It's just me, Hon. Mom. You must tell him that I said so - he's very concerned about it. It's important now, Becky. You hear?
She finds herself saying, again out loud, I don't think so, Mom, Pops never talks about any of that kind of stuff -
The form cuts her off – You tell him. He's concerned, take my word. It's important now, Becky. I wouldn't be here if it weren't. It won't be long now you can think about what it is you want to do for yourself now, Hon.
Finally Becky manages to say, Okay, I will, Mom. I'll talk to him about it best I can. If I am loosing it, Becky thinks seriously, than I am really loosing it this is SO REAL?
Grandma's here for you, Hon, her Mom continues matter of fact. You got a long while yet. But Grandma's always with you, just know that. She wants you to do for yourself, Becky. We both do, Hon. It's about time for that and Grandma, you know, she loves you very much.
And the form quickly dissipates right before her eyes as if a heavy smoke suddenly rushed out of the room by a strong draft of air from an open window? At dinner that night she tells Pops that Ma was waiting for him on the other side and to make sure he finds her. Of course, he does not understand what she is talking about. But Becky keeps at it with him until he stops insisting that it's crazy talk and promised that he will remember that Ma is waiting for him. They were never particularly religious people and Becky suddenly realized that she had no idea what he thought about the afterlife - she never really had given it much thought herself? Going to sleep that night Becky thinks about what she does want to do thinking that she would like to go back to work finding it a little odd that she does but not in a hospital something easy like in a doctors office, maybe - 9 to 5, right? She didn't mind that no one would be there to take care of her actually the thought of a nursing home was not so bad to her, she almost looked forward to it. She had prepared for that contingency being the best case scenario in her mind and she knew that she would be able to afford the best.
Pops dies three nights later
peacefully in his sleep for which Becky feels very grateful. He never did
say anything about Ma waiting on the other side but Becky feels
reassured, anyway. She checks him when she returned from the store in
the quiet, wee hours of the morning with a warm rain falling steady
and hard – a beautiful rain, a slightly sweet smell, slightly funky,
the smell of life in Florida. He looks peaceful, she wonders, noting how
reassuring to her that is more than words could convey.
It had to be real? she thinks.
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